Page 87 of Counting On You

Chapter Twenty-One

Vicky

“Ican’t helpbut notice that you like someone.”

“What?” My head snaps to Sylvie who’s sitting in front of me, her blue eyes scrutinizing.

“Look at the ten o’clock hottie. That’s who I’m talking about.” She gives me a gentle nudge and I turn my head to follow her line of vision. The cantina’s overcrowded today—it might even be the busiest I’ve ever seen it. Something about a new chef arriving has everyone curious. Nothing exciting ever happens so someone’s arrival is the attraction of the week.

“Great,” I mumble and am about to turn my attention back to my plate when I see someone standing in line, filling his plate.

It’s a newcomer to the cantina.

Kade.

I don’t know when he ever eats, but apparently not at the same times as I do.

His back is turned to me, but I’d recognize his broad shoulders anywhere. Wearing a black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looks even sexier than on the day we first met.

A burning flame erupts in my abdomen and settles between my legs, gathering in a delicious pull that reminds me of what we’ve done in that closet.

It’s only been a few days, but the memory’s still fresh. I can still feel his lips on mine; I can still feel his fingers inside me and his tongue between my legs, doing unspeakably sexy things to me. No man has ever made me feel so wanted. Even though we’ve overstepped the threshold of friendship and entered friends with benefits territory, nothing has really changed between us.

We still talk about everything. Except about the closet event.

And Bruce.

He hardly ever enters my thoughts now, but there are still times when I feel hurt.

Only Kade can make me feel better. Watching him now, I’m reminded just how much I look forward to our evenings together.

“That someone,” Sylvie whispers. “I have this kind of sixth sense about romantic relationships and their outcome—unfortunately, I suck at predicting mine.”

I turn back to her, hoping that the heat covering my face isn’t a major blush.

“I don’t like him.” I put on a fake smile. “I mean, not the way you think. It’s just…” How do I explain to her that Kade and I have spent a lot of time—a lot of nights—together and we’ve become really close? “…we went out.”

“He took you out for a date?” Sylvie asks, aghast.

“It wasn’t a date, per se. It was only clubbing and I didn’t even spend time with him. I sort of looked up with Bruce and then got drunk.”

Which is only half the truth.

“Oh, my God, Vicky. Why would you take such a risk?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I needed the change in scenery. I mean, look around you. Who can stay sane in this place?” I squeeze her hand, suddenly worried that I’ve just made a mistake by telling her. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Are you serious? I’m not a snitch.” She leans across the table and whispers conspiratorially, “Was it worth it?”

Was it worth it?

“Only time will tell.” I take a sip of my coffee, remembering the time I saw Bruce with his ex, and the feeling of disappointment returns. I thought he’d wait for me, but the bitter truth is piercing and harsh.

He moved on within days.

It’s not helping that my therapist says things I can’t even talk about. The statement she makes rings true and the seed of doubt has begun to grow, no matter how much I try to bury it.

Lately, I’ve been having thoughts like, ‘He used me,’ and ‘He’s never really been in love with me.’

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